The Arm
by Dark818
Summary: Just something I found at the bottom of a pile. An updated version of Frankenstein, still not entirely sure it counts as fan fiction. Good story, though.
1. The Appointment

John sat in the uncomfortable chair, looking at the sparsely filled office. His right arm jumped violently again; a problem that had been recurring for the past few months. John frowned. The twitches were getting worse. They had started out as simple flicks of the finger, but soon his whole arm was either numb or convulsing. He had come in to the hospital to find the problem. The doctors had done some tests, and became more and more flustered as the machines clicked and beeped.

John looked up as the door opened, and the doctor entered. He was a tall, thin man, in his late thirties, with already greying hair. He offered his hand. "John Walsh? I'm Dr. Stine." The doctor flipped open the file that sat on the desk and read its contents. After scanning the pages, Dr. Stine leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Mr. Walsh, I'm afraid I have bad news."

"The right cerebellum, the part of your brain which controls the movement of your arm, is being eaten away by a viral infection at an extremely rapid rate. Given a few weeks, you could lose all use of your arm." John slumped in his chair. "Shit." Dr. Stine nodded. "It gets worse. There is a very high chance that the virus will spread to the rest of your cerebellum. We're going to need to stop the spreading as soon as we can, to retain as much bodily function as possible."

"Wait, what do you mean, stop the spreading?" Dr. Stine winced "Basically, Mr. Walsh, we're going to have to surgically remove a large part of your right cerebellum." John sunk even lower into his chair. "Is there any other way? Anything at all?" Dr. Stine removed his glasses and sighed. "There is a way, but you may not like it."

"We've recently discovered a way to surgically graph nerve endings from two different sources together. This could mean new technological paths in medicine, but more importantly, it means that you will retain all use of your arm."  
>"Is it risky?"<br>"The technology is still very new, so we don't know that much about it. So, yes, it is extremely risky."

Dr. Stine replaced his glasses and leant forward. "Mr. Walsh, I must ask you to think about this very seriously. Although it may seem like the perfect opportunity, the truth is that this is still an extremely untested procedure, so we don't know everything that could happen. There is a very high chance that the surgery could kill you." John stared hard at the industrial carpeting. A minute later, he clenched his jaw. "I'll do it."


	2. The Surgery

The harsh hospital light stung John's eyes as he lay on the geurney. Dr. Stine leant over him. "Alright. This is your final chance to back out. Are you still willing to go through with this?" John nodded. Dr. Stine smiled faintly and placed a gas mask over John's mouth. "Alright, then. Just take deep breaths. I'll see you on the other side." The room began to dim as John slipped into unconsciousness...


	3. The First Incident

John chopped up the last carrot and slid it into the bubbling soup. He glanced down at his arm. Since the operation two weeks ago, there had been no more twitches or numbness. He still had a row of stitches along his skull, where the doctor had cut in, but he felt fine. His arm even seemed to be growing stronger, the muscles expanding and strengthening themselves, without any form of exercise. There was a clatter on the bench behind John as his cat knocked over a bottle. "yeah, yeah, you want food, I get it." he reached out to stroke its fur.

His arm twitched.

A crack echoed through the kitchen. The cat dropped, its neck broken. John stared at the stiff body. He tried to comprehend, tried to understand what had just happened. He had only tried to pat it, but now it lay on the counter, a lifeless husk. A chill ran down his spine as he realised why his cat was dead.


	4. The Inquisition

John turned around as Dr. Stine closed the door. "What the hell is happening to me?" Dr. Stine frowned. "Mr. Walsh, I'm not quite sure I understand. Why don't you sit down and tell me what this is all about?" John slumped into the chair, his face flustered. "Everything seemed fine after the operation, until I went to touch my cat and... I don't know, it was like my arm moved by itself." Dr. Stine flinched, but John didn't notice. "I didn't even feel my hand move. But it was my hand that snapped my cats neck, not someone else's." Dr. Stine smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure it was nothing to worry about. Probably just some drugs that took longer than usual to leave your body. Look, I'll give you a prescription for some neurontin. This should make sure nothing like this ever happens again." John stood up and turned to leave "Oh, and Mr. Walsh? I'm sorry to hear about your cat."


	5. The Second Incident

John stumbled as the subway train lurched forward. He couldn't help thinking about his meeting with the doctor. He closed his eyes, and played the whole conversation over in his head, looking for anything suspicious. Anything that might give him a clue as to what was going on.

He didn't even realise the woman next to him was choking until she started to struggle.

John opened his eyes as a man yelled at him. He felt the wind shoot out of him. There, clamped around the woman's throat like a vice, was his right hand. He hadn't even felt his arm move. The same man who had yelled at him now was trying to pry his hand off the woman's throat, but it wouldn't move. No matter how hard he focused, even he couldn't take his own hand off the woman's throat. John started to hyperventilate. Without warning, his hand snapped open. The woman fell to the floor, coughing. John stared at his hand, scared it was going to try and choke him next.


	6. The Confrontation

Dr. Stine had barely closed the door before John slammed him against it, his right hand wrapped firmly around the doctor's throat. "What the fuck did you do to me?"

"Mr. Walsh, calm down. I'm sure it's nothing-"

Dr. Stine was cut off as John squeezed even harder. "Nothing? For Christ's sake, I tried to kill a woman!" John pulled his hand from the doctor's throat and began to pace, his eyes wide. Dr. Stine rubbed his throat. John stopped and pointed at him. "Tell me what's happening."

"I don't know. I've never-"

John punched him in the stomach. "Cut the bullshit. You know perfectly well what's going on. Now tell me the truth." Dr. Stine coughed and stumbled to a chair. "During the surgery, we removed part of your cerebellum and replaced it with the same material from another source."

John blanched. "You... put part of someone else's brain in my head?" Dr. Stine nodded. "But... that doesn't explain why I've been trying to kill people." Dr. Stine stared at the floor, and sighed. "The part that was implanted into your brain came from a man named Stephen Ross. He was a murderer who preferred to kill by choking his victims. After he was executed by electric chair, his body was donated for medical use. The part of his brain that is now in your head is still imprinted with habits from the original source, and acts upon them." John fell against the wall, and fell to the floor, his eyes wide "I... I don't..."

"Whenever you get near someone, your right arm is told by your mind to reach out and strangle the life out of them."

John stared at him, dumbstruck. "Get it out." The doctor shook his head. "Mr. Walsh, another surgery to remove it would certainly kill you. Besides," Dr. Stine's eyes glinted, ans he smiled maliciously. "You're one of my greatest successes. Why would I want to change that?" John's head began to spin. "I told you that the surgery was risky." John wrenched open the door and ran from the room.


	7. The Last Resort

John sat in his dark apartment, staring at his hand. He half expected it to jump up and reach for his own throat. He had stayed as far away as possible from everyone he could, scared that he was going to kill someone. John started to shake. He couldn't take it anymore, knowing his mind wasn't even his any more, that it was being controlled by a dead man's thirst for death. He couldn't go through life scared of human touch, too afraid to go near any one.

John screamed as he stabbed the knife through his right hand.


	8. The Next Patient

Kate glanced at the doctor as he walked in. "Katherine Richards? My name is Dr. Stine." He sat down as he read the file. "Ms. Richards-"

"Please, call me Kate. I prefer first names. If you don't mind me asking, what's yours?

The doctor smiled. "It's Francis. But you can call me Frank. Now, about the results." The doctor leant back, and rubbed his face. "I'm afraid I have bad news."

Dr. Stine smiled under his hand.


End file.
